Understanding
by Renna Davies
Summary: The thoughts of an old wizard as he reflects on the choices he's made for his young student and hopes for understanding. Oneshot


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the rest of them, although I wish I did.

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Understanding

The sounds of happily talking students began to fill the large room as the dinner hour finally came and the weekend officially started. I sat in the center seat up at the High Table like always, looking out over the throng of students. A sigh escaped my lips. Oh, to be young again.

Meals were my favorite times of the day. There was always so much excitement in the air as everyone stuffed their faces with the wonderful food the house-elves provided. Well, not so much excitement at breakfast, of course. Then it was amusing just to watch the children try to eat without opening their eyes too far and keep themselves from falling face-first into their eggs and bacon.

For many years I had enjoyed sitting there, watching the young people discuss their classes, homework, crushes, that "horrible Potions Master", Quidditch practices, families at home, rivals in other houses, and all the other topics that young people were so fond of discussing. I remembered well the days I was in their place, when I thought I had life all figured out, or at least some of it. Of course, almost a century and a half had passed since then.

I was thoroughly enjoying one young Hufflepuff's enthralling tale of how the boy she liked in Ravenclaw said "Hi" to her in the hall that afternoon (a truly momentous occasion in the life of a young witch I'm sure) when, as always happened these days, my eyes were drawn to a particular section of the Gryffindor table.

A small group of students sat with their heads close together discussing something serious from the looks of it. And there was no doubt in my mind that whatever it was that had their attention was serious if the expression on the face of a certain young man was anything to judge by. These were dark and difficult times and this boy always seemed to be in the center of it all, whether willingly or not. Most likely not. Then again, he did have a way of involving himself in every mystery that came along, a trait I reluctantly understood. I always loved a good mystery myself.

Again I sighed. Oh how I wished that I could take it all away. It was not fair that one so young should carry so heavy a burden on his shoulders. I would gladly have carried the load if it was possible. It wasn't like I wasn't used to having the weight of the world on my own shoulders. However, this time it wasn't possible. Fate had a mind of its own and it had chosen this young man.

I had already made so many decisions for him that I should never have had to make. And I feared I had often made the wrong choices. I hoped he could find a way to forgive me for my mistakes. I hoped he could one day understand.

I reached my hand up to stroke my long, white beard. My hands had accomplished many things in my long life and they showed it in wrinkles and scars. Someday the boy's hands would be very like this….if he made it that long. I prayed that he would, that I would be able to help guide him in ways that would help him survive against such great odds.

I knew that the boy didn't understand my guidance, at least not fully. But maybe someday he would. After all, I remembered what it was like to be young and not understand why life was so cruel. Despite the many intervening years' worth of experiences, the memories of my youth were so poignant that sometimes it was like only yesterday. There had been someone in this very same position that I find myself in now in my young life who had often made decisions for me without my consent. I had resented him so much and hadn't understood, but I came to in time.

My thoughts drifted to a time not long ago when the young man had raged in my office over a grave injustice in his life and my heart clenched. That was when I had finally realized that I wasn't doing right by this boy. I had been so blinded by my faith in my own decisions that I had forgotten I was dealing with a real child who deserved more than what I was giving him. I may not have been able to take the burden on myself like I always had when I was young, but I could train the boy for the days ahead.

When the time comes, he will be ready. I made that vow to myself that day, and I would do anything I had to do until I took my last breath to see that it was fulfilled.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and realized that the meal was over and that the Great Hall was almost empty. Even most of the teachers had left to attend to their various duties throughout the castle.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Only years of experience kept me from jumping at the sudden voice. I had been so lost in thought I hadn't even noticed the very young man I had been thinking about approach the High Table. The boy now stood in front of me, slightly weary, a questioning look on his face.

"Yes, of course, my boy. Just got so caught up in my own thoughts that I lost track of the here and now. I've found that seems to happen more and more as I get older. So many more thoughts to get lost in than there used to be. Is there something I can help you with? I will try to pull my head from the clouds long enough to be of some assistance."

The smallest smile appeared on the young man's face but it disappeared quickly. "I was just wondering if I was still to come to your office for my lesson tomorrow evening."

"Ah, yes, of course, your lesson! Yes, please come to my office promptly at eight tomorrow night. I have so many more things to teach you and we must use our time wisely."

"Of course, sir. I'll see you then." His shoulders seemed to slump a bit as he turned to go. I knew that the boy would much rather spend his Saturday evening playing Quidditch with his friends than training in a stuffy old office with his professor—it was a feeling that I shared, I quite loved Quidditch myself—but we both knew it was necessary.

The boy had only taken a couple steps before he stopped and turned back around. "Sir?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"I just wanted to say…..thank you. For all the help you've given me this year. It means a lot to me." Legilimency wasn't needed to see the sincerity in his young eyes. Warmth spread through me as I heard the words I had longed to hear.

"You are quite welcome. It is my pleasure." Another smile graced the boy's face, this one lasting a little longer.

"Goodnight, Professor Potter."

"Goodnight, my boy. Don't let the bed-bugs bite. They can be quite nasty this time of year." Ah, that time I got a laugh. Such a rare thing these days. Things were definitely looking better.

"Thanks for the warning, sir. I'll be sure to watch out for them," he said as he turned once more and left the room.

Whoever said that history has a way of repeating itself certainly knew what they were talking about. It seemed only yesterday that I was the one walking slowly back to my common room, wondering why it was me that was chosen out of all the wizards and witches of the world. Why I couldn't be just like everyone else. Then again, I still didn't know why even at the age of one hundred fifty-two. But I had learned to accept that some things just are and that even old men make mistakes. Hopefully someday he'll come to understand, just as I did.

An old familiar voice echoed in my head. A voice I had missed for many long years.

_He will, my boy. He will._

-The End-

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A/N: This is my first fanfic. I have tons of ideas for stories running around in my head and I decided to finally get one of them out. I picked one of the simplest ones just to see how things went. To test the waters, so to speak. Hopefully someone out there likes what I've written. Let me know what you think. 


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